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Against Memory

it may have been                      courage

how I banished
my own knowing

dropped it
like a book burning in my hands

it grows           somewhere
a circle of thistle seed
sprouting under the feeder

I envied           the wicked when I saw
the prosperity
of the wicked

I need
fewer moving parts

an hourglass
has thousands

a sundial has only

the earth

 
haven’t I always been happiest
when a little simple

 
when sad and too sleepy

to speak

 
all of language             began

with a single

 
 sound

O—

no

no

it was

listen

 
it                      was